


The Serpent & The Quarterback Part II

by freightcarbarnes



Series: The Serpent & The Quarterback [2]
Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Archie Comics Reboot (2015), Riverdale (TV 2017), Riverdale (TV 2017) RPF
Genre: Archie learns some things, Bisexual Archie Andrews, Consensual Sex, Consensual Violence, Daddy Kink, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Shameless Smut, Smut, archie tries his best, bisexual FP Jones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 16:51:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16664551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freightcarbarnes/pseuds/freightcarbarnes
Summary: FP Jones and Archie Andrews meet again - this time, at FP's new workplace.





	The Serpent & The Quarterback Part II

Soft afternoon light filtered in through the cherry red blinds of Pop’s, glazing the classic interior of the closed diner. Alone, FP Jones stood behind the counter, lazily running a cloth across a squeaky clean milkshake glass. It was easy work, for decent pay, surrounded by familiar faces — an ideal job for a rehabilitated Serpent. Crisp shirt, maroon bow tie around his neck, seafood green name tag and Pop’s hat set at a jaunty angle atop his head, FP polished and buffed the barely-awake establishment. Floors boasting a fresh shine, vinyl seats glistening, the Serpent worked over the damp glasses and cutlery lined up beside him. Polishing knives and forks was a positively delightful afternoon, compared to the down-and-out dives he’d frequented just a few months prior.

 

The biker’s chocolate eyes focused downwards on eradicating streaks and smears, he didn’t notice the shadow approaching the front door. Only when the telltale bell rang out across the empty diner, did FP’s concentration break, shoulders reactively tensing as he opened his mouth to deliver a rehearsed rebuttal.

 

“We don’t open ’til six—“

 

**That fucking grin.**

 

~~~

 

_Archie Andrews swooped a hand briskly through his auburn hair. One final check in the mirror, one last moment to look, to meet his own eyes and begin to question, ‘Is this a good idea?’_

_As quick as the thought entered his head, he shook it back out. A hand replacing disheveled hair once again, Archie forcefully turned his attention to his hair, skin, clothes. Avoiding his own gaze and heading out through his bedroom, the quarterback grabbed his blue and gold letterman, making a swift exit past his father downstairs. The redhead scurried away from home, tugging his jacket on as he moved. With strong hands cresting through blue cuffs, the broad ginger couldn’t help but muse upon the things that jacket had seen…_ **_Oh the things it had seen_ ** _. Crumpled on the bedroom floors of both his own, and Veronica’s. Discarded in Hiram Lodge’s study. Draped around Betty Cooper’s shoulders. Ditched, stained,_ **_thrown_ ** _across FP Jones’ trailer._

 

_A telling smirk splattered across his handsome guise, Archie paced quick steps across Riverdale. He was meeting Veronica later, but his mind wandered far from the Lodge heir — instead, his stomach was abuzz with the memory of fingers around his throat. Rough knuckles knotted in his hair. An open-handed slap across his mouth, and a gravelly voice close in his ear._

 

 _It’d been a few months since their last encounter in FP’s trailer. Long enough for the bruises to fade, and the fresh high of intimacy to diminish. Archie, against his better judgement, needed_ **_more_ ** _. With a bite of his lip, he stepped up to the door of Pop’s Choklit Shop, readily ignoring the flipped ‘CLOSED’ sign emblazoned across the door._

 

~~~

 

**That goddamn fucking grin.**

 

Heart shaped lips giving way to perfect teeth. A chiselled jaw, high cheekbones, a smirk that travelled all the way up to his eyes. Thick, auburn hair. Broad shoulders, a too-tight t-shirt, the blue and gold barely obscuring his muscular build. With the afternoon sun illuminating the tips of his hair like fire, crafting a golden halo around his tanned skin, the man before him appeared almost godlike in his statuesque beauty.

 

Moving his gaze briefly downwards to the glass in his hands, FP threatened a greeting, “Hey, Arch. Little early for milkshakes, don’tcha think?”

 

_“I’m not sure, Mister Jones… I’m pretty thirsty—“_

 

_Archie would be lying if he said he didn’t love the dance. The back and forth, the will they won’t they, the way barbs dripped from FP’s tongue like venom, and the way Archie would lap them up like milk. There was always an element of danger; of being caught, of being rejected, a buzzing undercurrent to a situation rife with unpredictable electricity. It’d been a time since Archie laid eyes on the elder Jones, and with FP’s attention directed to the glass in his hands, the redhead took time to take in the sights._

_The bow tie framed a squared jaw spattered with stubble, the jaunty hat hiding thick, dark hair, slicked back. The short sleeves of the white Pop’s uniform pulled taught on the biker’s frame, the apron pulling in at FP’s lithe waist. All the details that Archie lost in the haze of lust, all perfectly outlined in the diner’s attire._

 

One eyebrow arching at the redhead’s response, FP’s eyes rose to rake teasingly across Archie’s body. “Miss me, did ya, kid?”

Jagged teeth biting down into his lower lip, the Serpent slowed his glass polishing to a still. Placing it down on the counter and briefly glancing past Archie to the empty streets outside, FP’s dark eyes met Archie’s.

 

“Y’know, y’look a hell’uva lot better without that damn jacket on. Thought I told y’that last time—?”

 

 _The command in his voice was undeniable. That Serpent leadership snaking out in every word, just the_ **_hint_ ** _of being able to serve FP’s needs and likes was enough to force the quarterback to eagerly shrug off his blue and gold. Tossing it sideways towards an empty booth, Archie dared a step forward. The nerves of their previous encounters having dissipated, his mouth twisted into a shameless smirk of excitement. Arms flexing in his small, grey shirt — a deliberate choice, something a few sizes too small, a leftover garment from the days before his summer training — Archie was beginning to learn_ **_precisely_ ** _the effect he’d have on the grizzled object of his violent desire. Eyes wide and glued to the handsome convict before him, the redhead oozed a caramel-smooth affirmation._

 

_“I’m sorry, Mr. Jones. Is that better?”_

 

Almost as if he’d been taking lessons from his River Vixen girlfriend, Archie emitted a newfound confidence as he flexed around the checkerboard linoleum of Pop’s Diner. Although not entirely unbecoming, it was a cocksure attitude that FP greatly looking forward to toying with — Archie was nothing, if not a hard worker.

 

Taking deliberate, slow steps around the counter, FP pulled the hat from his head, loosened the bow tie around his neck, cast both onto the closest table.

 

“ **Much** better.” The words punctuated steps, shoes tapping against the polished floor.

 

_Despite Archie’s previous poise, a flicker of endangerment flashed across his honey gaze as the predatory Serpent approached. The jaguar prowl of a desirous man much bigger, stronger and more threatening… It sent a shiver the length of the quarterback’s spine. With a heat stirring in his stomach, Archie’s gaze stuck fast on the dark-eyed brunet closing the space between them._

 

FP stood, tall and imposing, over the flame-haired boy. Extending a hand suddenly, the biker curled rough knuckles into Archie’s shirt — _a moment that sent a bolt of fear through the redhead, (had he been rejected after all?)_ — and **pulled**. With all his force behind him, FP pulled Archie impossibly close against him. Archie’s smooth, cut jaw scraped against the Serpent’s rough stubble, and, teeth bared, FP looked prepared to spit a command, an attack, into the quarterback’s face.

 

_Cigarettes and motor oil. Aftershave and bleach. Hair wax and leather._

_FP Jones was a contradiction of scents, an intoxicating blend of clean and dirty, rough and smooth. This close, with stubble scratching Archie’s flawless skin, the redhead couldn’t help but breathe him in. Even with the threat of rejection, the very real possibility that he’d made a damn fool of himself, Andrews couldn’t help but lose himself in the situation. Rough knuckles that grazed skin, holding his shirt balled up, an anger radiating from the older man; it was an irresistible elixir, poured into wind-worn skin and midnight-black eyes. Facing a venomous threat and a bite of the dust outside Pop’s, Archie’s lips parted to reluctantly protest—_

 

_— and were met with a hot, rough mouth against his own. Bristles scratching his face, the ginger barely had time to construct a single thought before FP’s tongue was in his mouth. Wide, surprised eyes and a startled noise subsiding, Archie found himself almost entirely at FP’s behest, the convict’s balled fist still clutching the youth close._

 

Almost as quickly as FP had pulled Archie in, he shoved him back. He tasted sweet, pure, exactly how FP had imagined he might. Dark eyes opening to focus on the cocky redhead, a hunger already raging, the biker pushed Archie hard up against the adjacent wall. One strong hand pinning his chest, the other dropping to tear at Archie’s buttoned jeans, rough fingers tore at button and zipper, shoving at the denim until the jeans slid lopsided down the quarterback’s muscular thighs.

 

_The Serpent’s movements were so fast, hungry, violent, that Archie barely had time for a sharp, surprised intake of breath. From FP’s invasive kiss, to the push, to hitting the wall, Archie was putty in Mr. Jones’s palms. Gasp exhaling to sigh as his jeans gave way to smooth, strong legs, Archie’s hard cock outlined through his tight-fitting boxer briefs. With FP’s midnight eyes devouring every solid inch of him, the redhead could do little but gasp and stutter through the Serpent’s violent motions._

 

Shifting his weight to allow his forearm to rest laterally against Archie’s chest, FP’s free hand grazed along the fabric concealing Archie’s erection. The breathy noise that the quarterback stuttered beside FP’s ear was _wonderful,_ and only drove the brunet to repeat the motion. Stroking once, twice, FP’s ear adjacent to Archie’s pink, kissed lips, a cruel smile curled across the man’s face as the redhead began to melt beneath his hands — whimpering, submissive music to his ears. With a movement almost too quick for Archie to comprehend, FP snaked a hand beneath the quarterback’s underwear, weathered palm immediately finding his rigid dick.

 

The startled gasp that followed was _heavenly_.

 

“Y’re a /big boy/, Archie—“ The grizzled ex-convict growled, hand slowly beginning to pump at Archie’s impressive manhood, “You gon’ be good for y’r **_Daddy_**?”

 

Archie was slick beneath FP’s hastening grip, his hips bucking and trembling with every deliberate motion. Chocolate gaze shifting to watch the redhead’s eyelids flutter in pleasure, his lips open, cheeks blushed, FP could see the quarterback’s attention honing in purely on the sensation at his loins, and that? That wouldn’t do, at _all_.

 

Jagged teeth baring in a wicked grin, the Serpent lowered his head a little, before sharply biting down on Archie’s chest. Thick muscle and perfect smooth flesh bulged in the ex-convict’s jaw, a strangled howl leaving the pliable redhead beneath him.

 

 _“Jesus—!” Archie exclaimed, one hand coming up to paw at the raw teeth marks embedded into his chest, blown, hazel eyes returning to focus on FP’s devious expression. One gaze into those devilish, dark eyes, and the quarterback was speechless again, breathing ragged, stuttering whines as FP stroked at his bouncing cock. It was all rather a_ **_lot_ ** _— faster, harder, rougher than last time, in a locale that Archie and his friends frequented. With the Serpent King unpinning him and dragging him, by the wrist, across the diner, Archie was absolutely certain of one thing; he’d never look at Pop’s Chok’lit Shoppe the same way again._

 

With a tight grip around his wrist, FP tugged Archie towards the shiny clean counter across the room. Archie stumbled across the checkerboard linoleum, aroused haze demolishing his coordination; something that was undeniably endearing. It was oh, so easy, to pull this boy apart.

 

Tugging Archie roughly around the staff divide, FP pushed the blushing redhead into the counter before him. Taking half a moment to observe the carved backside of the quarterback, FP’s hands settled on his own white slacks, unbuttoning, unzipping, pushing the pants and his underwear down his thighs. The Serpent’s thick cock sprung from the concealing fabric, revealing a previously hidden erection.

 

“Bend your pretty little self over that counter, boy—“ the biker growled through a ravenous smirk. He took half a step backwards to reach for the hefty tub of Crisco Oil beside the cooker, scooping a thick handful and rubbing it between his palms, along his fingers, one hand dropping back to pump at his own swollen cock.

 

 _Obediently, the loyal redhead bent across the shined counter of Pop’s. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Archie leaned a forearm across the clean counter, forehead resting upon it — Was this really happening…_ **_Again_ ** _!? And in the middle of the day!?! Archie knew he’d be blessed with distracting daydreams for weeks to come, vibrant fantasies to fuel his evenings alone, and no doubt a handful of bruises to conceal. It was a dysfunctional and passionate pairing, one born of lust and unexplored avenues… A combination Archie just could_ **_not_ ** _tear himself away from._

 

_Hearing the slick movement of an oiled hand, the bent redhead glanced back over his shoulder, auburn hair flopping from his eyes. FP stood a foot away, pumping at his impressive erection; a snapshot that would stick in Archie’s mind for weeks to come. A smirk breaking through his lips, jagged teeth biting into his lower lip, the quarterback’s eyes dragged the length of the biker - FP Jones surely was the best snack on Pops’ menu._

 

Taking one, two, steps towards the compliant redhead, FP kicked the inside of Archie’s ankle, spreading his legs further apart, open and inviting. With one hand moving to cup and squeeze the quarterback’s peachy behind, he pressed slick fingers to Archie’s hole. Circling, relishing in the soft gasps that slipped from the redhead’s pink lips, a devilish smirk splashed across his own visage, the biker began to press his fingers into the inviting entrance. He felt Archie resist initially, his sculpted body tensing briefly, before he sunk into FP’s embrace — he felt the young man’s knees buckling ever so slightly, as he slid a second finger in, a tumbling, gentle moan spilling out of him.

 

The Serpent King worked two, three fingers into the pliable teen, increasing speed and depth. His own erection stood rigid behind Archie, every moan and stutter from the ginger causing his loins to twitch reactively. For a boy that brandished bravado like a baseball bat, FP found something absolutely delectable in watching the boastful quarterback come undone in his hands.

 

_As the imposing convict stepped closer, a shiver ran the length of Archie’s body. That undeniable lust, the anticipation of being overpowered - something Veronica could never attempt to replicate. The sting of FP’s teeth tearing into his smooth chest was still present, a pleasant reminder of the power looming behind him. If he needed any confirmation of Mr Jones’stature, it came in the form of a swift kick to his inner ankles, a manoeuvre that spread him wider. Teeth biting into his lower lip to stifle the smirk growing there, Archie’s breath was soon taken from him as the rock hard biker began to enter him. Even a bitten lip couldn’t hold back the telling whines that began to spill from the quarterbacks pink lips. Likewise, Archie’s cock bobbed beneath the counter he leant against, pre-cum leaking from the tip. FP got him wetter than anybody ever had, knees shuddering, longingly desperate for his rough touch._

 

Taking his slick member in one hand, the biker aligned himself with the quarterback’s entrance. Tongue flicking out to lick his lips, a wolf-like hunger in his eyes, FP pressed forwards inside the pliable redhead. His own silence broken by a gruff moan of pleasure, the biker slid into Archie, his tight body closing around the Serpent’s rigid cock. Beneath him, a honey rich whine spilled from the teen, a peppering of needy gasps following it - music, to FP’s ears.

 

Pulling back, the biker rolled his hips, starting a series of smooth thrusts. After loosening Archie enough that his movements became more fluid, FP hastened his pace. Bearing down a little harder on the muscular youth, the biker’s warm body curved to meet Archie’s back, their hips flush as the Serpent began to lose himself in raw lust of it all - the smooth expanse of Archie’s flawless skin, the sweet scent of alluring cologne, every breathy sound that slipped from the quarterback’s previously arrogant mouth. FP’s own frantic pants gave way to rough moans, growls, hot breath on the back of the redhead’s neck. He felt every twitch, tremble and pulse of Archie’s body beneath him, and each movement forced the wizened biker closer to release.

 

 _FP’s heat curled around Archie, his knees shook as the biker pushed deep inside him. Mouth parted in breathless ecstasy, the redhead whined and moaned beneath him. There wasn’t a feeling like it in the world - the Serpent King’s heavy weight bearing down on his body, someone stronger, older, able to totally dominate him. As a muscular, football-playing jock, it wasn’t often that Archie Andrews could be made to feel small and vulnerable… Yet FP Jones_ **_excelled_ ** _._

 

 _With voice trembling as the Serpent’s thrusts forced the air from his lungs, Archie breathed out a request to the object of his affections, “_ **_Harder_ ** _, Daddy—“_

 

The breathed begging from the boy beneath him pulled a wide smirk across the biker’s expression. For all of Archie’s swagger and attitude, the kid could take a cock like no other — FP had devoured his share of both men **and** women… But few endeavoured to please as hard as the junior Andrews.

 

The Serpent pulled his hands down the redhead’s back, settling on his hips, nails digging hard enough to leave welts. Standing a little more upright and securing his stance on the shiny linoleum, FP began to deliver harder, rougher thrusts. Skin slapped against skin, growling grunts met caramel whines, echoing around the empty diner in a raucous cacophony of lust. It was remarkably lucky that Riverdale was a particularly sleepy town.

 

_Head dipping as his body brunt the full force of FP’s strength, Archie allowed himself to be ploughed back and forth against the counter of Pop’s Diner. A place he’d shared milkshakes with his best friends - FP’s own son, the girl next door, the heir to the Lodge empire - had now become another sordid secret. A counter marked with the sweat from his fucked body, the linoleum and cherry red blinds bouncing in his view. The smells and sights of Pop’s Choklit Shoppe would forevermore, unintentionally, cause Archie’s loins to flutter._

 

 _Gaze blurring as the Serpent began to hit Archie’s spot hard and fast, the wrecked quarterback’s moaning slipped by wet, parted lips with increasing ferocity. It felt_ **_divine_ ** _, to be filled like this, overpowered, and as pre-cum steadily dripped onto the checkerboard floor beneath them, FP growled some truly beautiful words._

 

“You better start touching that cock of yours, Andrews — I want y’to come f’r me — **_hard_**.”

 

_As soon as the words left FP’s grizzled, perfect mouth, Archie slipped a hand around his rigid dick. Beneath the counter, he began to pump, fast enough to match the biker’s pace. It almost wasn’t necessary, with the tenacity at which FP thrust into him, but it certainly bought the redhead to the precipice of his release. Thigh muscles tensing hard, breathing ragged clouds over Pop’s polished counter, Archie’s moans devolved into tumbling cries as his entire body clenched around the biker. With the Serpent’s rough moans accompanying, the quarterback slammed into the surface before him over and over, riding out the monumental orgasm at the behest of FP Jones. Thick ropes erupted from his slick cock, splattering the floor, the underside of the counter - just as FP had demanded._

 

A rush spread throughout the biker’s body as the redhead beneath him shuddered, buckled, tensed and finally - **released.** The whimpering cries that slipped from his handsome countenance and the splatter on the linoleum made the deepest pit of FP’s stomach twitch and flutter, almost forcing the brunet to cum inside the eager teen. With his cock warm and wet, Archie’s hard body clenching around him, the Serpent began to mount his own peak — _until the telltale ding of Pop’s door bell rang out across the empty diner._

 

 

**FP Jones had never moved so goddamn fast in his entire life.**

Pulling out quick enough to make the dazed teenager gasp, the biker grabbed the spent, sweaty quarterback sharply by the arm.

“Get / _down_ /, Red—“ The command registered barely above an animalistic growl, as he shoved Archie _down_ towards the floor, (towards his spent mess,) and the hidden sanctuary of the space beneath the counter. His other hand hiking up his crumpled work slacks, the Serpent took a sharp step forward, hoping the height of the counter would conceal his barely obscured, still half-hard dick.

 

 _Archie didn’t even_ **_hear_ ** _the bell of the door. Still blissed out, gaze unfocused and seeing stars, hair damp and flopping into his eyes, a warmth curled in his stomach, a glistening sheen of sweat across his tight body, dick bobbing, leaking, all Archie Andrews felt was the tight grip of panic around his bicep. The thick fullness inside him was all at once, startlingly vacant, a sudden pull-out that made the pink-blushed redhead gasp with surprise. Before he could register what exactly was occurring, a hefty strength was pushing him down towards the checkerboard floor he’d just spilled upon. Hopeless to resist and completely pliable, Archie obediently allowed himself to be shoved towards the ground. Only when his knees hit the buffed floor, did he begin to notice the palpable_ **_fear_ ** _hovering just above his now concealed head - an air only exacerbated by the hushed command hissed by his roguish senior._

 

**“Morning, Mr Jones.” Her tone was sweet, sing-song, charming in the way only Lodge’s knew how to be. A scalloped halterneck revealed slim shoulders, a classic pearl necklace adorned her neck; a short skirt gave way to long, slender legs. Obscenely expensive Louboutin’s and a gaudy purse completed the look. Waves of dark hair crested Veronica Lodge’s shoulders, and a deep red lipstick drew attention to her only half genuine smile.**

 

“Veronica,” FP nodded, curt, polite… Acutely aware of the Lodge’s concealed boyfriend sat face-height at his crotch.

 

**“Have you seen my Archiekins today?” Twisting on a heel, Veronica scanned the empty diner, the perfectly polished floor, the afternoon light glancing across the tables, “I’m supposed to be meeting him here any moment now—“**

 

 _If Archie had been more conscious of his surroundings, he’d have recognised the clip-clop of Ronnie’s expensive heels. If Archie hadn’t been fucked into a blissful stupor, he might have smelled her perfume. As it was, the appearance of Veronica Lodge came to him via her enquiry — to the half-cocked biker daddy standing before him. It was here, hidden beneath the counter, staring at the crumpled slacks, hard motorcyclist thighs and shoddily concealed dick, that Archie Andrews once again, decided to_ **_do his best._ **

 

_Moving as stealthily as possible, (considering his damp, naked body and the polished floor,) the redhead shuffled a few inches closer to the Serpent. Almost on cue, as Veronica cooed his sickly-sweet pet name, one hand deftly shifting the biker’s crumpled pants, Archie took FP’s cock into his mouth. Wrapping sweet, pink lips around the elder’s thick member, the quarterback couldn’t help but smirk as he felt FP’s thighs twitch, and heard the slightest, softest gasp escape from the usually-rough mouth above him._

 

Hot, wet, soft — All at once, FP’s dick was enveloped by a warm mouth and a dextrous tongue. Veronica’s fleeting glance gave the biker barely enough time to allow a surprised gasp to escape his lips, for his hands to hit the counter at the sensitivity, and attempt to regain a falsified composure by the time the Lodge heir had returned to meet his gaze. Forcing a curt smile, positive that he would shout out in pleasure at any second, FP’s jaw flexed and tensed before he replied.

 

“H-haven’t seen him, Ronnie. We don’t open ’til six—“ It was a weak attempt to force the entitled teen to leave, a desperate wish that she’d exit and allow her oh-so-perfect and definitely-100%-straight boyfriend to finish his dick sucking. Oh how wonderful it would be, to splatter that perfect, chiselled face with his load.

 

_For a young man who only boasted a handful of queer sexual experiences — all of which were with the biker currently inside his mouth — Archie sucked dick like a pro. Trying as hard as he did at football, music, righting the wrongs of the town, he moved back and forth along FP’s rock hard cock, lapping at the pre-cum leaking there, teasing, touching, utterly revelling in the opportunity. As Ronnie spoke and FP allowed himself a short, fast, slight thrust into Archie’s throat, even the quarterbacks cock bounced, the refractory period evidently shortened by this unique, bizarrely arousing happenstance — his rich, entitled girlfriend unknowingly standing a few feet from him, as he fervently pleasured the local ex-convict, biker gang father of his best friend. It was an incredibly specific set of circumstances… But evidently, one that worked perfectly for the taboo needs of the enthusiastic jock._

 

**Confident, demanding, Veronica took a brief look at her Rolex. She smiled, her father’s strong will evidently passed down, “I’ll wait.”**

**Spinning on her heels, she began to step towards a nearby table — too near, for FP’s comfort.**

 

“Ronnie—!” His voice pitched higher than intentional — an unfortunate side effect of the unexpected talent of the concealed boy’s tongue. Clearing his throat, the biker reasserted dominance, voice lower, rougher, once more. “That table ‘ain’t clean yet--“ He gestured loosely to a booth in the far corner of the diner, narrowly out of view of the counter hiding his sins, “Y’re better off sittin’ back there. I gotta run some real heavy cleanin’ stuff over all th’tables up here. Bad bunch’a kids in late last night. Made a real — mess’ve the place.”

 

**With a somewhat perturbed glance towards the supposedly filthy tables, (and to FP’s vast relief,) Veronica turned and headed for the back booth, as instructed. Her heels clicked every step, perfectly coiffed hair rolling over her bare shoulders. She was a made-up Barbie-doll of a woman — a stark juxtaposition to the cigarettes and motor oil roughness of Archie’s unconventional beau.**

 

Eyes cautiously glued to Veronica as she walked away, breathing jagged and uneven as the redhead continued to work him, FP dared to take a step back from the counter. Pulling himself out of Archie’s longing mouth, looking down at the eager hazel eyes beneath the counter, the hard body curled up there, the biker couldn’t help but smile — Archie was always so eager to please, and there was something absurdly endearing about the hungry smile shining back at him from his secret hiding place.

 

In a brief moment of softness, the Serpent extended a hand to the crumpled quarterback, whispering, beckoning, “C’mere, Red—“ He nodded back towards the staff-only area nearby, behind doors, a short hallway that led to the kitchen.

 

_Archie’s bare feet scrambled against the floor as he took FP’s hand. Moving as deftly and quietly as his body would allow, the two men scampered through to the staff area, Archie obediently following FP’s lead. It was warmer out back from the ovens, a little noise to hide their sounds, but the redhead had barely a moment to consider the new surroundings before the biker’s grizzled mouth was pressed against his own. Kissing hard and fast, Archie’s eyes fluttered closed as FP’s hand clutched at his face, his jaw, around his throat._

 

Kissing had never been something that the Serpent King partook in when dominating his conquests. It seemed too ancillary, when the majority of his exploits were fast, rough and violent — but with Archie Andrews, it was different. FP wanted to leave stubble burns across the quarterback’s smooth skin. He wanted to bite at his lips until they bled, tongue him until the muscle ached, kiss him hard and fast, knowing the quarterback would remember the taste. He wanted every caramel kiss with Veronica to pale in comparison to the smokey mouth of his sinner.

 

Between savage kisses, the brunet biker whispered a veiled affirmation, “You’re real good at suckin’ dick, y’know that? Y’re wasted on the Lodge girl.”

 

 _Oh, that was_ **_it_ ** _. A stamp of approval that set Archie’s mind racing; a world in which the Andrews’ boy belonged to FP Jones. A world in which he’d wear tight t-shirts and leather jackets, where he’d exchange looks across the White Wyrm, where he’d be at the biker’s beck and call for services of_ **_all_ ** _kinds. Although Archie didn’t consider a partnership with FP Jones, there was something undeniably appealing about acting as the Serpent’s any-time plaything._

 

_Smirking between petrol kisses, an air of confidence returning to the milked redhead, he dared to utter a toying response, “You think I’ll get extra credit if I blow my teachers?”_

 

One eyebrow arching, FP pulled back to stare down at the cocky quarterback, a vaguely amused shake of the head directed towards him. “Y’better get on y’damn knees and suck my fuckin’ dick before I punish ya f’r even suggestin’ it—“

 

_He didn’t need to be told twice. Eagerly dropping to his knees, the Andrews’ boy continued his hungry endeavour. Tongue flicking, sliding, dancing across FP’s rigid member, humming around his thick cock, the biker leaned into his warm mouth._

 

Eyes closing, kitchen hum barely concealing the increasing grunting moans slipping from FP’s mouth, the biker’s peak came hard and fast. Climax rising, legs tensing, eyes opening to gaze at the handsome, willing visage below him, the brunet shoved Archie back, away, far enough that with two, three brief strokes, FP could fire his load across the ginger’s pretty face. Letting out a gruff cry that no doubt alerted half of Riverdale, (let alone the oblivious Veronica,) FP rode his shuddering orgasm to completion — covering the obedient quarterback.

 

After a relieved sigh, head thrown back to push his disheveled dark hair from his face, FP’s midnight eyes found the blushing redhead once again. Hair and skin sticky with release, it was a patently wonderful sight — even more so, when the willing teen hungrily licked the residue from his lips. Breathing out an impressed laugh, hands moving to hitch his pants up, the biker noted the ginger’s blown out pupils, blushing cheeks, the telltale bite mark on his chest.

 

“Get y’self cleaned up, Arch. How d’ya think that girl’ve yours would feel seein’ you all wrecked like this, huh?” The smirk crawling across his face revealed a thousand prospective intentions, more bruises and bites, more reckless encounters and electric touches.

 

_Warm, wet and giddy with post-coital ecstasy, the redheaded quarterback knelt in a daze before the powerful biker. Hazel eyes scanned up to FP’s face, the smirk Archie often daydreamed about plastered there. With instruction reaching his ears, the obedient sub began to wobble back onto his feet, one hand rising to push through his auburn hair. Moving back sweat-soaked strands, jagged teeth still twisted in a blissed out grin, Archie glanced around hazily for something to remove the Serpent’s seed from across his face and chest._

 

FP, uniform replaced, took two steps towards the diner that housed Archie’s expectant girlfriend. Glancing back over his shoulder at the cum-soaked Adonis, the biker set a helpful reminder his way.

 

“Y’re clothes’re behind the counter out there. I’ll kick ‘em back t’ya, okay?” As promised, FP strode back into the main till area, straightening his uniform, reaching for his maroon bow tie and absurd white hat. With a swift boot behind him, he skidded Archie’s discarded garments across the linoleum, leaving them in easy reach of the concealed boy.

 

~ ~ ~

 

_By the time Archie emerged from the back area of Pop’s, Veronica sat frustratedly tapping at her booth table. The sound of stiletto nails on the plastic-coated surface rung out impatiently across the empty diner. Stumbling over his own feet, the redhead had hauled his jeans and tight shirt back on, and was making a clumsy beeline for his discarded letterman, sat crumpled in a booth adjacent to the countertop. He’d managed to wipe at his hair, face and chest with towelling from the kitchen, but the secret sensation of FP’s dried release was a private, lewd reminder. Cheeks finally losing their blush, chest bite mark stinging against his tight shirt, and pulling his letterman back over his body, the popular quarterback reached the booth, placing a hand on the turned back of his unknowing partner._

 

_“Hey, Ronnie—!“_

 

_Back to caramel smooth in the blink of an eye. One would never guess that he’d been bent over the counter just twenty minutes prior._

 

~ ~ ~

 

Strong hands wrapped around two glasses, the uniformed biker walked measured steps over to Archie and Veronica’s table. With a gentle clink, he presented the couple with two milkshakes — one thick, brown, chocolate, a sprinkling of darker flakes adorning the top. The other, strawberry, piled high and dripping.

 

Leaning over to push the shakes towards their prospective drinkers, FP offered his best customer service grin.

 

“On the house, guys—”

 

Midnight eyes flicked to meet puppy dog hazel. An electric connection that exceeded touch or language, a forbidden secret shared, a taboo kink played out across Riverdale establishments. Bruises faded, torn clothes replaced, but the feelings never dampened. Their meetings fast, hard and heavy, the biker and the quarterback.

 

The corners of FP’s lips raised in a smug, knowing smirk. Dangerous eyes tore away the layers the redhead had only recently replaced, and the vulnerable, willing boy sat bare as the ravenous Serpent King released a slick barb into the tense air between them.

 

“Extra _cream_ for you, Arch. _Just how y’like it_.”

 


End file.
